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“The grass is just beginning to sprout on the
plains, Mr. Calhoun,” I began eagerly.

“Yes,” he nodded. “God! if
I were only young!”

“I am young, Mr. Calhoun,” said I.
“Send me!”

“Would you go?” he asked suddenly.

“I was going in any case.”

“Why, how do you mean?” he demanded.

I felt the blood come to my face. “’Tis
all over between Miss Elisabeth Churchill and myself,”
said I, as calmly as I might.

“Tut! tut! a child’s quarrel,” he
went on, “a child’s quarrel! `Twill all
mend in time.”

“Not by act of mine, then,” said I hotly.

Again abstracted, he seemed not wholly to hear me.

“First,” he mused, “the more important
things”—­riding over my personal affairs
as of little consequence.

“I will tell you, Nicholas,” said he at
last, wheeling swiftly upon me. “Start
next week! An army of settlers waits now for a
leader along the Missouri. Organize them; lead
them out! Give them enthusiasm! Tell them
what Oregon is! You may serve alike our party
and our nation. You can not measure the consequences
of prompt action sometimes, done by a man who is resolved
upon the right. A thousand things may hinge on
this. A great future may hinge upon it.”

It was only later that I was to know the extreme closeness
of his prophecy.

Calhoun began to pace up and down. “Besides
her land forces,” he resumed, “England
is despatching a fleet to the Columbia! I doubt
not that the Modeste has cleared for the Horn.
There may be news waiting for you, my son, when you
get across!

“While you have been busy, I have not been idle,”
he continued. “I have here another little
paper which I have roughly drafted.” He
handed me the document as he spoke.

“A treaty—­with Texas!” I exclaimed.

“The first draft, yes. We have signed the
memorandum. We await only one other signature.”

“Of Van Zandt!”

“Yes. Now comes Mr. Nicholas Trist, with
word of a certain woman to the effect that Mr. Van
Zandt is playing also with England.”

“And that woman also is playing with England.”

Calhoun smiled enigmatically.

“But she has gone,” said I, “who
knows where? She, too, may have sailed for Oregon,
for all we know.”

He looked at me as though with a flash of inspiration.
“That may be,” said he; “it may
very well be! That would cost us our hold over
Pakenham. Neither would we have any chance left
with her.”